Just Wait
by A s h e n m e l o d y
Summary: Kagamine Rin; a loner girl with both a sharp tongue and horrendous social skills is currently attending Crypton High, possibly the largest school within the whole county. On one miserable Monday afternoon, she suddenly gets a note requesting to meet in the abandoned art room. There she meets Kagami Len, the resident pretty boy... just what is it that he wants? -Rewritten-


**01: The Note**

**Monday, October 6th**

**08:06**

. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

...

Kagamine Rin  
Date of Birth: December 27th, 1999.  
1st year attending Crypton High School.  
Mother: Kagamine Lenka.  
Father: Unknown.

Status: Very much alive.

….

. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

I watch the crisp red and yellow leaves skitter across the street, feeling the cool air in my throat as I breathe in. My pace is slow and lazy, no sign of urgency present in my steps. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my over-sized coat, the tingling feeling in the tips of my fingers finally starting to get to me.

….

Montag. 月曜日. Lundi. 월요일. Lunedi. Lunes. dies Lunae.

….

Monday.

…..

Just _what_ is it about Mondays?

What makes them so miserable?

Maybe, the air's always just a bit cooler. Maybe, the sun shines just a bit brighter than usual, mocking people with its happiness.

I've always hated Mondays.

I've always hated school.

Kudos to whoever thought it'd be a _great_ idea to stick a bunch of random kids into a stuffy room for eight hours a day, five days a week. _Absolutely brilliant_.

My eyes slowly move to the large building not too far down the road- Crypton High School. I sometimes wonder why I even bother going. Is it for my mother? Would she care? Who knows, it's not like I ever see her.

I continue to walk towards the school, my pace as slow as it was a few minutes ago. Class doesn't start for another thirty minutes, what's there to worry about?_ Maybe freezing my ass off_... I'd rather not. I walk a bit faster; the idea of the slightly warmer building somewhat more appealing than staying out in the cold.

By the time I make it to the front gate, I'm speed-walking. I yank the entry door open, stepping into the main lobby. I make my way towards the fourth of the ten rows in the first year section, cerulean eyes searching specifically for locker number 132. Once I find the one I was looking for, I pull the small door open and change into my indoor shoes. Then, I carefully set my outdoor shoes into the compartment, shutting the door afterwards.

Adjusting the strap of my bag, I walk down the first year hallway. Several groups of students are gathered together, quietly chatting amongst themselves. I carefully wind my way around them, walking towards classroom 1-C, and entering once I find it.

There's only a few people inside the room at this point. My shoulders relax a bit, my feet guiding myself to a desk in the very back, right next to the window. That's one thing I've always liked about being in Mr. Kiyoteru's homeroom- there's no set seating arrangement, meaning I can always sit by the window if I get here early enough.

Taking my bag off and slinging it over the back of the chair, I take a seat and turn my eyes over to the clear glass beside me. A few clouds litter the sky here and there, but the sun continues to shine as brilliantly as it did in summer. Leaves dance in the air, their colors varying shades of red, yellow, and orange.

….

Herbst. 秋. Automne. 가을. Autunno. Otoño. Autumnus.

….

Autumn.

….

I've always loved autumn.

I've never figured out why though. Maybe, it's because my mother said autumn was my father's favorite season. Maybe, it's because when the trees lose their leaves, it feels like one day, I have the chance to be reborn too.

Okay, maybe that was a bit _too_ deep. Oh well.

I notice some commotion by the doorway out of the corner of my eye. Even though I already know what it is, I turn my head to look.

It's the same thing everyday

First, starting around 08:24, students will casually walk in, talking about the latest trends, gossip, television series, sports, and of course, the _Vocaloids._ Like most schools, we have the jocks, the nerds, the preps, the emos, and all that other confusing labelling stuff.

But, here at Crypton High, we also have the Vocaloids.

An elite group of the beautiful and musically talented, only those of a "higher being" can get in.

I call bullshit.

Anyways, next, the girls that always sit in the front corner of the room will watch and squeal as the individual Vocaloids walk to their classes. I'm not sure, but I think there's a Vocaloid or two in this class. Who knows?

Either way, I find those girls _really_ creepy.

Finally, Mr. Kiyoteru will walk in, instantly grabbing everyone's attention, and homeroom will begin.

Mr. Kiyoteru is actually pretty cool, he's probably the only teacher I like in this place. It seems everyone likes him. Maybe it's because he's really young, so we can all relate to him more.

I wonder if he was a Vocaloid.

. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

...

Kagamine Rin  
Date of Birth: December 27th, 1999.  
1st year attending Crypton High School.  
Mother: Kagamine Lenka.  
Father: Unknown.

Status: Very much alive.

….

. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

It's currently the middle of Mrs. Aoki's seventh period science class. I'm not really sure what to think of her, though her daughter looks almost exactly like her. It's kind of weird.

I once read that there are at least seven people throughout the world that look like you. The thought's a bit befuddling in a way. Seven other people with short, blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes. Seven other people who have a small, round face, just like mine, and slightly pointed ears.

I wonder if they dress like me too.

Probably not.

I look up at the board, pictures and words intermingling. Honestly, none of it makes sense. Carbohydrates and lipids and proteins and nucleic acids, why do I need to know any of this? I probably don't.

I can't blame Mrs. Aoki though, she's just doing what the school-board tells her to.

Like a puppet.

I wonder who's pulling the strings.

I look back down at my desk, eyebrow quirking slightly at the small ball of paper sitting in front of me. When did that get there? I didn't even notice. My gaze travels across the room, searching for a possible sender. No one out of the ordinary.

I wonder what it says.

Glancing at the teacher to make sure she's not watching, I carefully open the small note, almost as if it would disintegrate right then and there. Words cover the paper, small and neat.

_'Meet me in the vacant art room during 7-8 Break.'_

I look around once more, frowning slightly. Still no one.

Is this a prank? It probably is.

I look out the window, the leaves still fluttering about. As much as I love autumn, I hate how cold it gets. When I think about it, it's kind of odd. How can it be so chilly when the sun shines so brightly? So many questions with little to no answers. Maybe I'm just stupid, thus I can't answer that one.

Turning my head back to the front, I see a small ball of paper dart across my desk, stopping just before it flies over the edge. Huh. Looking around, I still don't see anyone who could be the sender.

That person must be a great at acting casual.

Opening the paper, I see the same handwriting as before. This time, though, it's slightly larger. Maybe they did that because they thought I couldn't read it? Who knows. I read the words my one-sided mystery pen-pal wants me to know.

_'Yah, did you think this was a joke? Could you not read it the first time? Meet me in the vacant art room during 7-8 Break. (3 , 3)'_

Guess it's not a prank after all. I wonder what (3 , 3) means though. I'd say it was the time, but you don't write time in parentheses. Could it be a name the sender goes by? That's a weird name. Maybe it was a typo.

I frown again, questions running through my mind a mile a minute.

Maybe I should just go to the art room and wait, regardless of who sent it. The worst it could be is a joke...right?

But what if it's a group of people who want to beat me up?

Maybe I shouldn't go.

I sigh, resting my head against my desk. The bell chimes, signaling the five minute break we get before eighth period. I sit up and turn my eyes towards the window. The leaves stopped their dance.

Maybe they grew tired.

I guess I should go, what's the worse that could happen? A bunch of things.

Why am I so pessimistic?

Standing up, I shove the scraps of paper into my coat pocket. I wonder why the school doesn't take the time or money to add a proper heating unit; the small one in the back corner of the room doesn't really work. I walk out into the hallway, students once again gathered into small groups.

The note said the vacant art room...

I have no idea where that is.

Shrugging, I walk down the hall. I'm careful to avoid the people clustered around me, though it's kind of hard when this one guy is shoved in my direction by whom I assume to be a friend of his. I quickly skitter out of the way, not really feeling sorry when he smacks into the window. My eyes instead focus on the signs posted above each door, though a part of me is still aware of my surroundings.

1-D... 1-E... 1-F... Stairway...

I turn a corner and continue down the hall. I've never been down here before...

1-G... Music... Drama... Staff Room... Art... Art-2...?

Maybe that's it.

Slowly sliding the door open, I peer into the room. The lighting is very dim, but it's still bright enough to see everything inside. I shuffle in, being careful not to step on any of the utensils or paper littering the floor. Flipping the light on, the thin layer of dust sitting on top of everything becomes evident. My face contorts in disgust.

Who the hell would want to meet in here?

This is definitely a prank.

But I'll just go with it.

Looking around for a clean place to sit, I start to hum softly- "Meltdown", composed by yours truly. I spot a small area of a nearby table that just happened to avoid the attack of dust. I hop up, my feet not quite touching the floor. Getting so focused in drawing patters in the dusty film surrounding me, I don't notice someone entering the room.

"Ahem?"

I jolt out of my thoughts, my head snapping up. Standing in front of me is a boy, roughly five feet and six inches tall. He sports blonde hair, which is tied into a small pony tail, and has eyes like sapphires. His bangs are messy, though it's like he intentionally made it that way. His tie is lose, shirt untucked, and blazer unbuttoned, with a stylish, dark gray jacket on top of it.

Kagami Len.

I don't know much about him, but I think he's one of the Vocaloids. Aside from that, all I know is that he's _really_ popular and the resident pretty boy.

So why in the world would he want to talk to me?

I try to think back on events that have happened in the past week or two. Did I do anything to offend him? That wouldn't be good, _at all._

Nothing comes to mind.

"Oh... uhm... hi?" I gulp, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. My social skills are pretty bad, though I guess that's what I get for avoiding social situations.

Wait. Scratch that. My social skills are beyond bad, horrendous would probably be a better word.

_Schrecklich._

Len leans against the wall in front of me, his arms crossed. I just notice the small, silver bass clef pendant hanging around his neck. His features are blank, though I get the feeling he's thinking about something. The room stays quiet for a moment or two, and I kind of zone out.

His cold and uncaring voice brings me back to reality.

"Look... I'll be frank. Don't tell anyone one what you saw. I don't care who you are or what you think, not a single soul outside of this room should know."

I blink, head tilting slightly.

_What?_

"I'll give you money, jewelry, sex. Whatever, I don't care. Just keep your mouth shut, got it?"

My eyes widen as he speaks, my mouth falling open.

Just what the hell is this guy talking about?

I clear my throat, shifting slightly. His eyes are watching me like a hawk watches its prey on a hot, sunny afternoon.

I don't think I like this guy.

He scares me.

_A lot._

"I... uhm. I hate to burst your bubble... sink your ship, whatever, but I honestly have no clue what you're talking about." I shift again, my gaze moving to one of the paintings on the wall. "I think you might have the wrong person..."

I can pretty much feel his eyes narrow.

. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

...

Kagamine Rin  
Date of Birth: December 27th, 1999.  
1st year attending Crypton High School.  
Mother: Kagamine Lenka.  
Father: Unknown.

Status: Oober Confused.

...

….. .. ... .. . . ... .. . ... . . ... .. .. . . . ..

**_Just Wait2.0 _****Chapter 01 is finally complete! Excuses are excuses, but I am so sorry that it has been more than a year since I last updated the original story!**

**When I was re-reading the original, to refresh my mind on what the heck it was about, I was just about in tears with how bad it was. How'd you guys put up with that crap?**

**Anyways, what do you guys think so far? Different, huh?**

**I plan on keeping it mostly the same, though I will change a few of the events I originally planned out. Rin's character is a bit different, though I honestly like it more. It's just easier to write, I guess.**

**I would love opinions, so don't be afraid to give me some criticism!**

**-Ashe**


End file.
